


Parts Developed in an Unusual Manner

by TruFaith



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, mentions of Regina/Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruFaith/pseuds/TruFaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Get out.”  She shoots Robin a glare as she crosses the room to the liquor tray.  She hears him scoff, then stand up and take a step toward her as she grabs for the brandy.</p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>Emma uncorks the top of the crystal bottle and pours the brandy into a nearby tumbler with one hand, her eyes never leaving the drink, as her other hand grabs the gun at her hip and levels it at his chest.</p><p>“Get. Out.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parts Developed in an Unusual Manner

**Author's Note:**

> So I woke up yesterday morning and this just happened. I don't even know guys. This takes place after A Curious Thing but without the whole 'Snow going into labor' thing because who has the time for that.

 

Emma strolls up the front walk with purpose.  She opens the front door (Regina hasn’t bothered locking it ever since she got her magic back) and slams it shut behind her, loud enough for _them_ to hear it but not so loud as to wake Henry.  The last thing she wants is him sneaking downstairs to witness all of this.

 

She heads right for the study, knowing that’s where Regina would've lead them.  After putting  _their son_ to bed.  They’re on the couch sitting disgustingly close.  He looks on edge and she just looks curious.

 

“Get out.”  She shoots Robin a glare as she crosses the room to the liquor tray.  She hears him scoff, then stand up and take a step toward her as she grabs for the brandy.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Emma uncorks the top of the crystal bottle and pours the brandy into a nearby tumbler with one hand, her eyes never leaving the drink, as her other hand grabs the gun at her hip and levels it at his chest.

 

“Get. Out.”

 

She hears the shuffle of him moving, maybe even reaching for that ‘never-miss’ bow of his that she’s yet to see actually hit a target.  She’d suggest he take a few lessons from her mother if she actually gave a shit.  Then she hears _her_ voice.  Emma downs half the glass.

 

“Robin, it’s okay.  I’ll handle this.”

 

“Regina, you can’t expect me to just --”

 

“I  _said_ I will handle it.”  Emma smirks into her glass as she holsters her gun.  Then he murmurs something in that Jude Law voice that grates at the inside of her ears.  Regina whispers something back and then there are sounds Emma tries to block out entirely as she drains the rest of her drink and pours another.

 

She listens to him leave, waits for the sound of the front door, before she finally turns to face her.

 

It’s late but Regina’s still in that red dress, the only thing missing from the outfit are her heels and the matching lipstick.  Emma can’t look at her for more than a second or two.

 

“Can you," Emma gestures vaguely toward the door, "go change, or something?”  Regina raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms.

 

“You want me to change my clothes…?” Regina looks almost amused.

 

“Yes.  Please,” she adds before taking another drink.

 

“Why?”  Emma lowers her glass and finally  _really_ looks at her.

 

“Because I'd rather not have this conversation with you in the outfit you picked out for  _him_.”

 

It’s Regina who looks away then.  Emma might grin at the small victory if she wasn’t busy trying to keep the bile from clawing up her throat.

 

Regina waves an arm and suddenly she’s dressed in black yoga pants and a light blue v-neck t-shirt.  Her feet are bare, earrings and makeup gone, her hair is even a little less ‘put together’.  She’s almost more painful to look at now.  Emma takes another long drink.

 

“Thank you.”  She turns back to the alcohol, using the excuse of topping her drink off to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts.  After the docks, her day had consisted of plans and filling in blanks.  Then her parents had finally turned in and suddenly she was here.

 

“So,” she replaces the top on the brandy and slowly turns back around, “ _this_ is what you needed time for, then?”  Regina sighs and moves toward her and Emma panics for a small second until Regina brushes past her and starts pouring her own drink.  They’re too close, Emma can smell her.  She can pick out the hint of earthy aftershave tainting every other scent she's long since memorized.  She fights against the bile again and moves across the room.

 

“So that’s why you came in here waving your big gun around?”  Regina turns around, smirking over the edge of her glass.  “It’s a bit childish, don't you think?”  She takes a drink and Emma’s fingers tighten around her own glass.

 

“Don’t.”  Emma’s not in the mood for masks and games tonight.  She’s far too tired for it.

 

“I only mean that petty jealousy seems a bit beneath you is all,” she says with a shrug.

 

“ _Please_ , I’m not jealous of that idiot.”  Emma rolls her eyes and takes a drink.

 

“Whatever you say, dear.”

 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Emma takes two steps closer, “and I am  _not_ in the fucking mood for it.”  She’s more than familiar with all of Regina’s tricks and games, all her little techniques to avoid an honest conversation.  

 

“And what might that be?”  Regina takes another drink with her practiced expression of boredom.  Emma quickly moves back into Regina’s space, catching another whiff of  _him_ and letting it drive her.

 

“You’re lying, Regina,” Emma says simply.  Regina’s posture stiffens but she doesn’t move away.  “To me.  But mostly to yourself.”  Emma leans a little closer, leaves just inches between them.  She lowers her voice to a whisper.  “Pretending you don’t hate the scratch of his beard, the hair that’s too short to pull on, the way his shirts will never look as good on you as mine do.”  Emma’s fingertips slip under the hem of Regina’s shirt, ghosting across a hipbone.  Regina lets out a quiet gasp and her eyes darken.  Emma wonders if she’s remembering the night this shirt was left here, the way Regina had slowly peeled it off of her.

 

“But mostly,” Emma tilts her head, their lips almost touching, “you hate that at the end of the day he’s just  _not me_.”

 

“Emma, please,” Regina whispers.  Emma looks in her eyes again, sees the panic and the honesty and knows she’s pushed far enough.  She takes a step back and Regina huffs out a sigh of relief.  They both take a long drink.

 

“Look, I get it,” Emma says after they’ve both calmed a bit.  “He’s safe and normal and…” she sifts through the childish insults in her head for something more acceptable, “ _simple_.”

 

“It’s not just that,” Regina’s voice is quiet as she stares down into her glass.

 

“What?  Tink’s little tattoo prophecy?”  Regina’s eyes snap up to meet hers and Emma just arches a brow.  “Yeah, I know about it.  It’s practically all she talks about.  ‘Look what I did, I brought  _True Love_ to the  _Evil Queen_.’”  Emma rolls her eyes and takes another drink.  “You of all people should know about the half-truths of prophecies, Regina.”  The older woman looks away with another sigh.

 

“I won’t deny that there’s a connection between us, Emma.  A passion, even.”  She looks over at Emma with sad eyes.  “But that’s  _all_ it is.  We were just two people who felt lost and sought out a distraction in each other.  It isn’t real.”  She gives Emma a small shrug as she shakes her head.  "And it can’t last."

 

“Regina -”

 

“No,” she cuts Emma off.  "I know what you want.  I remember every word you said on that godforsaken boat.  It's the one thing I can't seem to forget."  She mumbles the last part into her glass as she brings it back to her lips.

 

Emma had been stupid, she knows that now.  She'd gone about all of it the wrong way.  The way they'd started, right after she and Henry's first trip to New York, had been rough and secretive and shameful (Emma would later realize that it wasn’t because either of them was  _actually_ ashamed, but because they both thought the  _other_ was.  Communication has never been their strong suit).

 

Then on the way back from Neverland she’d made another mistake.  She cornered Regina and babbled about fresh starts and feelings and futures.  And Regina had said she needed time.  Then there was body switching and curses and a year ripped from each of their lives.

 

Regina is scared and Emma doesn’t blame her.  She’d come to her like a naive child, like her mother’s child, saying that they could change absolutely everything and it would somehow be okay.  She hadn’t had any proof.  She hadn’t had anything real to reassure her, to convince Regina of the truth in her words.

 

Emma had been stupid, she knows that now.  But damned if she hadn’t been right.

 

“Look,” she finishes her drink and sets it down on the desk, “I know you’re scared.  I am too --” Regina cuts her off again with a laugh that somehow sounds exactly the opposite of how it should.

 

“I’m not scared, dear.  I’m just a realist.”  Her voice is simple and flat.  Emma can’t stand it.  “Situations like ours, they don’t turn into more.  You can’t strike a spark in the middle of nothing and expect a flame to flourish.  The things you want take more than just lust, Emma.  And lust is all we've ever had.  Relationships need a foundation, something solid, something  _real_ \--”

 

Emma kisses her.  Because she might be stupid and impulsive but she’s  _right_.  Because Regina has never been one easily convinced with words and Emma never seems to have the right ones for her anyway.  Because she counts time now by Regina's laughs and the quiet way Regina breathes her name.  Because Regina's voice makes her heart stop working properly and her touch is the only thing that sets it right again.  Emma pours every ounce of truth and feeling she has into the kiss.  She promises Regina decades together with the pressure of her lips and the way her hand twists in dark hair.

 

Emma faintly registers the thud of Regina’s glass against the carpet and then there’s a hand in her hair and at the small of her back.  The relief is overwhelming.  Emma kisses her harder, until she feels Regina’s whimpers buzzing against her lips and her nails digging into her skin.  Emma pulls away then, but she doesn’t go far.  Her hands stay strong around Regina, keeping her in this moment.

 

“You said you needed time,” Emma whispers, “and you have it.  As much as you need.”  Regina opens her eyes and Emma sees in them that some part of her is still unsure.  “But don’t doubt what’s waiting for us down the road.”  Emma brings her other hand to Regina’s cheek, holds her steady.  “You and me, Regina?  It’s the most  _solid_ thing I’ve ever known.  We can do this.  I feel it in my marrow.  We were  _made_ to do  _exactly this_.”  Regina’s eyes glisten but Emma knows she won’t let the tears spill over.

 

“What do you see in me?” she breathes out, her voice almost desperate.  Emma feels the air shift, knows her answer is important.  Not that it matters really.  For over a year now Emma’s only ever seen one thing when she looks at Regina.

 

“Everything,” she says simply.  Her hand brushes gently through Regina’s hair.  “You are  _everything_ to me, Regina Mills.”  Regina closes her eyes and her grip on Emma tightens.  She presses her lips to Regina’s forehead, lets them linger there for a moment.  “It’s _real_.  I promise.”  Emma steps back then.  She smiles at Regina and moves past her toward the door.

 

“Emma.”  She pauses, already halfway out the study door.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“He’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

 

“I know,” Emma says, because she  _does_.  “You come find me when you’re ready, Regina.  I’ll be waiting.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
